


A Measure of Darkness

by CoolyCakeCove



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, changing canon, headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoolyCakeCove/pseuds/CoolyCakeCove
Summary: "The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep." Reincarnation!OCStruggles of a (mis)fortunate soul who finds himself as the eldest heir of Fugaku and Mikoto Uchiha, older brother to Itachi Uchiha, and has the idea to save his clan.(Lots of theories and Uchiha Clan development.)





	A Measure of Darkness

**A Measure of Darkness**

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep." Reincarnation!OC

— Robert Frost,  _Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening_

* * *

**PREMISE**

_**A Measure of Darkness** _

_Am I afraid of death? No... not anymore._

* * *

Like every human ever, I don't want to die more than I already had. It's faint, but still there, my  _death_ , a repressed memory that stirs up animalistic fear. But I am still  _me_. Some part of me is aware we exist, even if we aren't tangible.

Then I get my wish. For another body. That's not mine.

But it is? The memories are mine. I feel a bit of me in every memory within my brain. Yet it's not me — not the me who who had his life stripped away, only but a shred.

Once again I'm whole.

Once again, I live, my mature mind stuck in this new life's subconscious, akin to fly buzzing around just out of sight, to be absentmindedly swatted at. This existence is  _me_ , suffering in silence, as a two-year-old child shrugs away my presence. A child made up of altered pieces of me.

At the moment, everything is blurring together, spiraling, and despite my terror, this new existence isn't completely foreign. The memories captured by this body  _do_  feel like my own, if lacking my entire consciousness. A part of me feels emotional connections to the child's parents — my parents — because this mind so vividly recalls during a time when all my complex needs could only be communicated by sobbing, they were there. They supported me. They comforted me. It warms me.

Yet my consciousness is telling me this can't be  _right_. Wasn't I a college student? I wasn't the best student possible, and maybe I never took my teachers seriously, but I was an adult basically and I shouldn't be inside a child's body.

That would mean I was born again, right?

The child's energy matches my own. He swings his legs in the tall chair, toes grazing the metal legs, as he knits his sweaty hands together. From the thin wall behind him, he can hear the occasional yell — disturbing, because  _Mama_  has never yelled before and the sound is scary.

A bit more of me starts to coalesce into the boy's consciousness, making it less like a movie and more like a play and I'm the  _star_. My mind is still amazed at my circumstances but my body acts in muscle memory that no altered awareness can change.

It's silent now, has been for a long while. The fading colors in the room makes me feel lonely. Objects and decorations become more undefined and I know I do too, a part of a shadow created by a setting sun. Then an impulse. My body leaps out the chair, walks to the sliding door with painted lotus flowers on the paper, sticks small fingers into the crack, and parts it open.  _That's what I was doing, huh?_

"Mama," I hear my new voice say, looking around blindly as my eyes readjust, "are you okay?"

A weary voice calls me — it is  _not_  Mama — and I move towards that sound. I regain sight just before I stumble into the wet nurse. Behind her, Papa sits on the bed's edge, facing away from me and to Mama, speaking in hushed tones. Something within me relaxes, seeming the two of still breathing and so close to me.

 _Ah_ , and the memories flood in and are filtered properly, I'm looking at Papa, but —  _that's Fugaku._

A beat.

 _That's_ _ **Fugaku Uchiha**_ _: Itachi's father,_ _ **Sasuke's**_ _father,_ _ **my father**_.

My higher awareness regresses into brief insanity as it contemplates the  _odds_  of having a new life in a  _childhood cartoon_. All while I look at the nurse and say, "Is Mama okay?"

 _That's Mikoto. That's_ _**Mikoto Uchiha** _ _._

"Yes, she is just fine. Mikoto-sama has given birth to a wonderful baby brother." She hums pleasantly but with a small tone of fatigue.

 _I'm an_ _**Uchiha** _ _, don't I_ _**die!** _ _in the future?_

"Can I see,  _puh-leeaase_?" I'm trying to peer over the nurse's shoulder already.

"After Fugaku-sama finishes cleansing him, you may see — at your father's discretion."

Soon both versions of me settle as different memories intermingle and the body so used to this world becomes a crutch of sanity.  _Ah, I'm_ _ **Fugaku's son**_ _. I'm_ _ **Takenaka**_ _Uchiha. And the one being born — I helped Mama pick a name, I remember, it came to me so_ _ **naturally**_ _—_

"Come here," orders Papa, cradling a bundle of cloth with a red, alien face and dark hair. "Look closely now. This is your blood brother."

I poke at my brother's hot, fleshy cheek with a knuckle and smell a trace of the delicious  _baby smell_  already. "Cute, huh?  _Itachan_ 's going to be a lady killer!"

"You must stop being around that man," Papa grumbles, retracting my brother a small bit, referring to my Casanova grandfather. "He's polluting your young vocabulary, Takenaka."

And the nurse also gripes at me while green chakra radiates from her gloved hands, "Use his proper name! Else your brother's going to think that pet name is his actual name!"

I smile delicately, like my etiquette teachers taught me, like I see Mama do. "Yes, ma'am. Itacha... Ita _chi_  Uchiha!"

 _The_ one _who_ _ **murder**_ **ed all** _ **the Uch**_ _iha. In a_ _ **show**_ _. I_ **watch** _ **ed**_.

I can't grasp the reasoning behind this, so I resort to the all too human response of  _deny deny deny_. Maybe it's cowardly or foolish; I figured if I can remain sane and get through this, it will redeem my action.

I know a few things already. I know I was born two years before Itachi's birth: the ninth of June (with mine being on the 19th of March, a date I don't think is very  _arbitrary_ ). I know that Itachi is born five years before Naruto is  _assuming_  Itachi is still born in the proper year as canon. Which I'm definitely confident in.

Because I distinctly remember that there are three faces up on the Hokage Rock and there has been no Third War yet.

I know that, as eldest, I'm the default leader of the clan. In the future, that should prevent Itachi from being too overworked and able to play with Sasuke (because he  _will most certainly_ be born). That also means that both Itachi and I are  _possible_  candidates for the Uchiha Massacre. Which happened when Itachi was 13, so I've 13 years to wait for anything to come about.

I know that the new existence can understand Japanese far better than my past life. He's so young. But he is the son of a leader in a world about to war. Naturally his father made sure he could speak Japanese. And thankfully, by taking Japanese as a foreign language in school, I planted the seeds to my learning process.

I know that I have no intention in waiting 13 years for this massacre to play out. My existence has already thrown the balance of this world and I intend to keep it that way. Because, maybe this is a little too optimistic, I want to feel apart of this world and not walking inside a predestined doom. If, somehow, my existence could change a life, I'm not going to wait and fall into the background.

I'm attached to these people — yes, these people that were once nothing but ink and paper, puppets to an omnipotent author — because I can remember nothing but their passion in raising me and that creates these fictional characters into real people. Yes, it hurts knowing my own parents are now a distant dream, my friends, everything I loved as a hobby, my future dreams are impossible, but I have a chance at being a  _hero._  Or... minimally... a human capable of good deeds every so often.

In this world, I was not born as a minority in a poor family struggling to make it in a world full of incumbents; I am the heir to a powerful clan and I have far more knowledge of the inner workings of this world. That in of itself makes me a powerful player indeed.

A part of me, though, is bitter. I'm no super fan of this series, I don't know every single detail, and I was mostly cynical about the Uchiha Clan. There was an equal amount of pros and cons and I didn't make a decision to support or hate the clan. I suppose I have no choice to accept my fate as an Uchiha. What is there to gain from going insane, other than certain death? I'd be like an unwanted king, poisoned by my son as I sipped wine from my goblet.

I won't allow Itachi Uchiha to the prodigy that murders his clan. I'll become the prodigy so he can have a childhood.

A part of me fears I'll become the murderer of the clan.

_I refuse to believe in that outcome._

I just need to play my cards right and  _not_  waste this. I get the feeling that if I die again, I may not have another chance at life.

**.:**

_june, year two_

**.:**

The first week of Itachi Uchiha's birth is a nervous affair. Not as bad as the first week of my life, as I'm told, but still not good. As a toddler, anything I suggest or do is ignored. Instead I get front row seats to two neurotic parents.

Papa bounces from helping Mama, playing with Itachi, and working. Before I took control, Takenaka had a vague idea that the world outside wasn't so pleasant as home. Obviously, we're on the cusp of another war.

Mama is visited by so many nurses who heal for hours and give her concoctions to speed up recovery. It's startling to see Mama — as young as she is  _—_ up and working hard as the wife of the Uchiha Leader in as little as three days.

She plays with Itachi still, but the burden of feeding the glutton belongs to the wet nurse I saw help Mama give birth: an old lady that goes by the name of Kanka.

 _Old_  is subjective. Her hair wound in a tight bun sealed by a lavender hair piece is snow colored. Her skin has so many blemishes and scars I'm wary to touch her, even knowing they don't hurt at all.

And her surprisingly loud and masculine voice always throws me off-guard.

But I hang around her only because of  _Itachi_.

"Annoying little bother, aren't you?" she comments while feeding Itachi, Mama elsewhere in the village. "All you do is stare at me once your studies are complete. I have no intention on hurting Mikoto-sama's boy."

Yeah, well,  _logically_  thinking I am being a big dummy, and  _just thinking in general_  I really don't want her anywhere near Itachi.

My cynicism I thought I left behind comes back.  _Who is she? Why is she so helpful? What's her motive?_  and many more questions.

I pulled out the answers: "Kanka, and twenty years too old to be taking any smart from little leaders like you" and "I get paid to do so" respectively, but it's still not enough. She's an enigma of questions that have some kind fallacy in them. I just know it.

I have to pull out the stops and use my child charms  _to get some answers_.

" _Wow_ , you're really good!" I gush to her as she changes Itachi's cloth diaper in ten seconds flat. "You must have been an amazing mother!"

I see her chin tighten from my angle. She pats Itachi's stomach that still has a piece of drying umbilical cord. "I'm a wet nurse. Never been a mother."

"Eh?" My heart soars. "How come? Your experience has to come from somewhere!" To sweeten the deal: "I bet you're a high ranking nurse, right? I believe in you!"

Oh that does it. For the first time, she chuckles, a little, more like a shaky exhale. "I'm  _the_  highest ranking neonatal nurse. You're a bright one  _—_ not just because your words are far more articulate than any child I've nursed."

The feeling leaves my face. I try to cover it up by rubbing my nose and looking down. "Then are you bright, too? Born to become the best nurse in the Leaf?"

"...I was an average girl. I had none of the fancy things you have. I did have eight sisters who had babies at 12 because where I lived, no young survived long. By the time I was a teen, I had two sisters and a nephew left."

I'm silent as she goes to sit in the bed to feed my brother again. I sprawl on the bed, mouth locked close.

"I loved no man. I couldn't wait to escape home and become someone better than a mother — only to realize that there was nothing wrong with being a mother. Somehow I found myself stuck as a nurse."

Vague... but a  _start_. A week later, after spending hours of being Kanka's little assistant, she tells me another story, all due to my innocent comment of: "Mama must be afraid of being a mama, huh?"

I hit the right nerve. Her dark eyes shine. "Mikoto-sama is  _not_  afraid of being a mother. No elite husband wants their wife to be stuck at home all day with a baby. It would be fine for some no name civilian, but not to a leader. Imagine the condescension she'd face. Forced to wear maternal clothes that would be humiliating among other women, forced to devote every hour away from the thousands of a clan to one child, forced to spend precious time and sleep to care for a child — and she's no experienced mother, mind you! Instead of driving her mad with the stress of figuring out what her son wants, she puts that in the hands of an expert woman!"

Kanka glows. She looks decades younger in the height of her passion.

I vaguely remember my parents comforting me —  _agh_ , the days blurred together. Everyday was barely different. And the first few months between long, disorienting naps and the all-consuming effort of learning to control a body took away more memories.

But I remember a young Papa and Mama with their dazzling smiles, directed only at me.

"Did you nurse me too?" I say without any charm.

"Of course I did! Would've thought a bright boy as you could remember something like that!" She's teasing me. "Your chakra's changed much since I last nursed you, but your brain's still alright, isn't it?"

...I imagine... me... in place of Itachi... instinctively drinking to survive and grow, not really caring if it was  _Mama_...

— oh  _Pain_ , I can't stop imagining me cradled against her giant chest — not so big it's a exaggeration, something less than Tsunade's — is that even  _okay?_ I'm going on 19 in a two-year-old's body and she's probably more three times all my ages —  _whatthehelldoyoucallthat?_

"Ah," I blurt to escape my mind, "how do you always feed Itachi? I mean... I don't really understand how mamas and nurses do that!"

"It happens naturally when a woman is pregnant," Kanka tells me easily, having a natural love of teaching others. "Some women can't make enough milk though. Me? I'm not pregnant at all. However, I use my chakra to produce milk to feed you and Itachi here."

What?

"Huh?"

Kanka places a glowing green hand on her bosom. "It's a delicate process. Hormones and whatnot — you'll learn more when you're old enough for your own wife and children. If I'm not careful, I can upset the balance in my body and kill myself. But I'm not dead yet, hm?"

...still doesn't explain —

...she's good at that.

My parents do give Kanka breaks from watching Itachi, at least twice a week. I find that even though I can play with Itachi when I want without having to justify myself to Kanka, I'm missing our conversations. Mama's so dull to talk to. I understand her whole story and we have no need to hide anything from each other.

When she feeds Itachi, she uses a bottle.

Feeling mischievous one day, just for some kind of excitement, I say to her, "You should ask Kanka to make milk for you too!"

Mama blinks. "Excuse me?"

I pat my chest. "Yours is very flat! You must be empty unlike Kanka! Granpa says women with big chests are very beautiful, so it's okay to have milk, too, Mama."

Like that, my mother is rendered shocked and speechless. Poor her — a smart son yet too innocent to comprehend things she understands!

Her entire face is colored like her ceremonial lipstick. "Takenaka! No more talk about girls in this house!"

I laugh hard.

To live the rest of my life without Mama, Papa, Itachi, Kanka... I couldn't let that happen.

I swear to Pain I will not let the Uchiha fall once again.

**.:**

_june, year two_

**.:**

I can't take my doe-eye, future mass murderer of a little brother seriously.

"Itachan's got my  _finger_ ," I sigh pleasantly, his dwarf fist clenched around my long digit warming my heart. I wiggle to see how firm his grasp is.

"Aren't you a little too fascinated by your brother," asks Mama with a giggle. She nudges me and the bed creaks as I rock a little. "Surely you've got other things to do, Takenaka."

"It's done! All so I can play with Itachan!" At that, Itachi's toothless mouth opens and closes on loop. I grab his pacifier with shuriken-shaped holder and slip it into his mouth where he munches on the thing like it's a bottle.

"He may have not wanted that," Mama tells me but doesn't take the pacifier out. "Don't spoil him because then  _I'll_  have to deal with him, you know."

Itachi Uchiha is only a fortnight old and finally out the grasp of the wet nurse Kanka. I expected to be repulsed by him due to his actions, but I find myself wide-eyed at his cuteness. From his gurgles to his silent-but-deadly farts, nothing this little guy can do bothers me.

Except... "What's that smell?" I say, bringing two fingers to pinch my nose shut.

Mama's face falls. "Oh. Looks like Itachi has made a number  _two_."

Meaning crap — literally.

I... diligently assist my dear mother with clean up,  _amazed_  at how much stuff can come out of such a small person, all because of my love. Love can do crazy things.

**.:**

_june, year two_

**.:**

With my new awareness of this world, I begin to explore my home. As expected, it's a super traditional, Japanese home — probably built even before my parents were born. It has two floors and an attic-like space. My home is a layer cake in that the bottom floor is humongous and the upper floors grow consecutively smaller.

The house uses a lot of dark colors that look scary at night. The wooden floors are a deep chestnut color, and so is anything else having wood. The paper doors and dividers are an off white, painted with primarily blue colors — like the blue dragon door for my room — or sometimes red. It's not a soft red; it's made to draw in attention and it leaves my hair standing on edge. But I may be paranoid.

Itachi's nursery is on the bottom floor near the back entrance. It's the only other room Kanka is allowed to go inside (the second being the kitchen). I'm free to roam around but if I do something stupid that requires Kanka to leave that room and go to me,  _I'll_  be in big trouble.

Odd how my parents trust her with their child and not their home.

Then again, I  _do_  think I'm a good guardian in keeping Itachi safe!

I have to admit, though, that everything in my home is so simplistic and dark. Other than bedrooms, no room has a homely spark to it. All the gifts Mama and Papa get for me resides in their bedroom I'm not supposed to ever enter without permission — their room with a blue koi pond on their door.

And then there's something ninja related in every room of the house. Above our heads in the dining room is a painted portrait of Madara Uchiha. The entrance where our shoes and umbrellas are placed has the three Hokage's portraits. My toys, on the off chance they're displaced from my room, are fake shuriken and kunai and swords and other fake accessories like arm guards and cartoonish ANBU masks.

The best part of my house: secret rooms and hidden compartments.

I've found two of them, but they're painfully obvious and are probably traps. One of them is in my room under my bed, which leads to another exit from my house. It places me on the rooftop without much of a way to go from there (but to a ninja, this is more than enough). The other is in the storage closet, which is a small door in the back that leads to a tall ladder. I have to grab a candlestick and coat before climbing up. At the top is only the attic.

The attic is full of Mama and Papa's shinobi gear and equipment, all so perfectly organized and polished that I refrain from going anywhere near them. There is a large balcony with one sided windows that opens up to our front yard and the entirety of the Uchiha Compound: so many dark blues, tans, whites, reds, and wooden colors everywhere, each in their traditional homes or a combo of traditional and new age. Other than the internal Police Force Headquarters, my home takes up the most space and is the most eye-catching of all. But every home within the compound is pristine, immaculate, and gives no indication of the people who live within it.

"Takenaka," I hear my mother's echo-ey voice from the outside. I look down and there she is, still on the sidewalk with her hand covering her eyes and her dark magenta pinafore twirling in the slight breeze. "How did you get up there?"

"I climbed," I smile cheekily.

"The house? But why — no, it makes sense. You are in your terrible twos now," Mama resigns. "But please stay away from the attic, alright? And come down to help Mama with groceries."

I nod. "And Papa?"

"He'll be home from work soon, Takenaka. Come along quickly — I've bought cold food."

— which ends up being  _sweet sweet_ mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Papa gets home after sunset. I see a glimpse of his Leaf uniform before he heads upstairs. I let my guard down as I play with Itachi in the living room, because Papa appears suddenly, wearing his simple green kimono-like shirt and dark shorts.

"Welcome home, Papa!" I give him the brightest smile possible.

Oh, but he's definitely weary. Not physically as he holds himself high, but mentally. He's not as sharp as he is. "Takenaka, stay away from places you don't know."

My smile cracks a little. "Eh? Did... Mama tell you?"

"No," he states, opening his eyes, completing his signature frown. "Tomorrow morning I have a surprise for us."

"Us?" I look down at my sleeping brother.

"Itachi is too young. By us, I mean you and me. Just a chance at father-son bonding," he explains.

Sounds like Mama coerced him into spending time with me. Never seen her mad and hope I never will.

 _Father-son bonding_  begins way too early in the morning. Papa wears a casual, all black attire and I do too, hoping we're not heading for a funeral, or something. He takes two scrolls, puts them in his pocket, and we're off. Strangely, Papa doesn't wear his shinobi shoes but simple sandals.

I try to keep awake for most of the trip, but I give up and hop on Papa's back, using his brown and silky locks as my pillow.  _Kids have it easy sometimes._

"Wake up, now. We're here."

The smell of water that opens my chest up hits me first. Then the sounds of water slapping the ground. Somehow we've walked to lake. Its waters are immobile, like a mirror more than anything.

Papa is kneeling over his opened scroll with three Japanese characters called Kanji I can't read yet. They look very familiar, though. He presses his palm to the first Kanji.

A puff of smoke fades to reveal a bucket of... homemade bait?

The second is a fishing rod —  _two_ , actually, and they seem quite expensive.

The third, well, Papa drips his blood on it and throws it out into the water. It drifts slowly before exploding and revealing a wooden boat painted royal blue.

"Woah," I breathe, which makes Papa grin.

He takes his equipment, water walks to the boat, and gets inside. The boats sways gently and it makes me glad I didn't eat breakfast. I'm not seasick, but I am half-awake and my body isn't acting right.

I take my seat across Papa and watch him use chakra to move our boat along the lake.

"Fine morning, isn't it?" Papa says. "I knew this would be the perfect day of fishing."

"Ah," I say like I just realized what was going on. "Papa, I can't fishing."

"Of course not. You're here to watch and learn." His pride is radiating. Papa baits his hook, saying, "Super special bait formula. Created it with my brother."

"You have a brother, Papa? I have an uncle?" Because that's more interesting than bait.

"Not a blood brother. He is a close friend of mine."

"Who, who?"

"Ah! Over there — I sense a fish."

Papa casts his bait into the water and we wait a few moments. I'm trying to see out into the dark water and I swear Papa must have his Sharingan activated because I don't see anything.

Then Papa is reeling in and shifting the fishing rod left and right with a wicked grin on his face. "See, Takenaka? Didn't take long at all!"

"But I don't see — "

At that moment, the fish flops out the water. I catch a sight of a massive tail and a large splash.

"Papa!" I shout, on my feet and leaning over the edge. "You have to get that fish!"

"There's no  _have to_  but  _will_ ," Papa quips back.

And before long, at our feet is a giant fish at 14 kilograms.

"Not bad," Papa comments, failing to hide his excitement. "There are bigger, better, and more special fish in the sea, but this is a good first catch for us, son."

Its wet skin glimmers dreamily in the early dawn. This fish is, simply, a long and really slender dart with an impressively long snout.

"It's a Vesper Gar, one of the most stubborn fish you'll ever meet. I lost thousands of ryo in catching my first one," Papa tells me, his expression blank. "It's a nightmare. However with my Sharingan, this special bait, and a little bit of chakra, this fish is nothing but breathing air."

I laugh, to see him struggling not to get giddy as a child. "You're amazing, Papa! Maybe someday I could be like you!"

Papa smiles before looking at something behind me.

"Hey-o, mini Fugaku! That fish's nothing compared to  _this_  baby!"

I start to turn in the direction of the youthful voice. "Huh?"

A man, a ninja, stands on the water with a sopping wet kimono top and  _monpe_. Hooked on a sheath strapped to his back, the leather tightening the nearby clothing and exposes his shapely chest underneath, is a bloodied spear, and in his hands is  _our_  Vesper Gar, but far far bigger.

"So cool!" I shout without thinking.

The man casually walks to us, only his scruffy chin and jawline visible under his  _sandogasa_ hat.

"I'm trying to teach my son the traditional way," Papa says with a blank expression, but I feel there's something deeper there.

"But is it the  _fun_  way?" The man sits on our boat's edge and tilts it dangerously on one side, he and that giant fish.

But now I'm in touching distance of him. I can smell the sharpness of wine on him, enough that it makes my nose aches.

The man flops his catch in our boat and the boat leans a little less to one side.

Papa ignores the fish. "It's fun in its own right. Even though the technique is nothing like yours, I still think this is the most effective way of catching fish." He gestures to his fishing rod.

"You think so?" The man faces Papa with his back to me, but I hear the smirk in his words.

"It's a fact, really."

And thus the man leaps out into the water with his spear in hand, tipping his hat up to wink at me.

"Your pops can't stand it when I win," he grins, teeth surprisingly white. "I've got no Sharingan unlike him."

Papa baits his hook, a ghost of a smile on his face. "If you're going to just talk to my son, you'll definitely lose."

The man lowers his hat and dashes across the water's surface.

Meanwhile Papa watches his bait a distance away.

The air is hot with the spirit of two men.

I don't who to cheer on for so I cheer them both! Inadvertently making their lust for competition that much stronger.

"—I've caught a big one, Hakushi!" Papa shouts over the sounds of the fish's struggle.

"Then that makes you and me both." He rises with a giant fishing in tow and an animalistic grin.

Papa's little boat is soon piled high of giant fish breeds of all kinds. Their salty smell is obnoxious — I close my nose and I can practically  _taste_  the fish — but the men don't recognize it.

Actually, I think they'll fight all day at this rate.

"Papa! Sir!" I shout. "The sun's long come up and I need to get home for my morning lessons. Let's end the battle here!"

It works.

With two last fish, Papa laughs with the man who pushes our heavy boat to shore. He seals up our fish and tells me to quickly get out the boat before sealing that up, too.

"Takenaka, meet my brother, Hakushi!"

"You're as suave as your pops," Hakushi comments, "but as mysterious looking as your ma. Fugaku, you didn't tell me you were ready to be a real father."

He shrugs. "Life happens and you just adapt, brother."

I shake Hakushi's hand, his large, rough, hairy hand. "Nice to meet you, sir! If Papa likes you, then I like you even more!"

Papa laughs.

Hakushi nods. "Nice. Alright, Fugaku, I'm taking your kid home with me."

"Mikoto would never allow you to."

"She doesn't  _have_  to know."

They jab and reminiscence as we head to the fishing hamlet just outside the Leaf. The hamlet is placed close to the northwest river port. It feeds from the Land of Earth to the heart of the Land of Fire.

Kanegasaki Transit has some of the fastest times of goods transportation. The geography book I read placed special emphasis over it. And fish are abundant in its swift-moving waters. If one has a licence approved from the Earth Daimyou, one can fish in Kanegasaki Transit's waters.

"Ninigi!" Papa drops his sealing paper on the ground in front of a tall and lanky man. "I have quite the treat for you!"

The man, Ninigi, brings his circular lensed glasses close to his face, the lens being a color of dark jade. He's flushed though that may not be from excitement. Another hand wipes at his oil covered shorts. Dry and cracked toes clench and relax and clench repeatedly.

"Fugaku-dono! Hakushi-dono! It's been months since you two been 'ere!" He waves his hands with badly trimmed fingernails. "You didn't fish long, yeah?"

"I would estimate about an hour and half," Hakushi confirms and I see he's somehow manifested a clear glass filled with a dark red liquid. "Nothing too phenomenal."

"Oh, then that's alright with me — " Ninigi stops as Papa unseals the fish. With a puff of smoke drawing every nearby fishermen attention, the fish pile of Papa and Hakushi is taller than me and stops at Ninigi's mid chest.

Ninigi lets out a sound. It reminds me of a deflated ballon and I smother a laugh.

"A bunch of rare finds and at good sizes to boot," Papa explains, less like a giddy kid. "I would estimate this at 300000 ryo at the highest."

 _Woah_!

"I... I don't have the money at this time," but Ninigi looks at the fish greedily.

"Well, pay in installments," Hakushi offers, voice husky from the burn of his liquor. "30000 ryo every month. 20000 to this guy and 10000 to  _me_. You can do that, right?"

Ninigi nods. "Yes sirs, but — "

"You ought to sell these fish soon," Papa tells him. "The effects of unsealing only last so long. If you want a good profit for them, you should get a move on."

What? Papa couldn't just enclose the fish and unseal it bit by bit, that way the fish doesn't rot? Why doesn't he do that?

Ninigi nods. "Right, right. Thank you, Fugaku-dono, Hakushi-dono..."

As we leave, I say to Papa, "What does he do with all those fish? Why'd you deliver him so much?"

His lip twitches upwards before he tells me, "Ninigi used to taunt Hakushi and I about catching fish as ninja. Said that ninja lived too much in luxury and couldn't handle the dirt and sweat of fishing. For a long time, we had horrible luck.

"Once we finally started getting  _good_  catches, Ninigi was our salesman. He thought he could use us to do all the fishing for him. So brother thought we would abuse his reliance on us, as revenge for his deception. We would fish all day and night and give to him a giant stack of fish, most of which he couldn't sell and had to let rot. But Ninigi wouldn't dare admit to a Clan heir he  _lied_."

Hakushi, walking ahead of us, guffaws. "Then we made our catnip for fish — our fishnip, and the goodies wouldn't stop coming! Poor man!"

"How's that poor?" I look between both men, but Hakushi responds faster.

"It's like betting on Chuunin in the test-thing. You find whatever fish is most valuable and rare, fish a whole lotta of them if you can, then take it to the market. The first dozen or so brings in the cash. But the more the market has of the fish, the more the price and need goes down. By the hundredth fish, he's losing time and money. Either he eats the fish or lets it rot at that point, but then he doesn't make any money at all and the fishermen'll be annoyed by him."

I gasp... before it turns into a grin. "That's too cruel."

Papa keeps his expression blank. "Anyone would be wise not to cross the Uchiha Clan."

**.: PREMISE END :.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another human-born-in-Narutoverse story — le gasp! — and an Uchiha OC at that? Ah. It's not the most original concept ever, but the Uchiha Clan is really fascinating and (before Shippuuden) I really rooted for the underdog clan.
> 
> This segways into my premise: a big brother of Itachi Uchiha who, using his status as the first born and eldest son of Fugaku, tries to prevent the clan downfall and genocide, somehow turn a clan prone to hatred and being ostracized into something accepted in the Leaf's community, and other things planned. I really want to divulge into the Uchiha lifestyle, but slowly, so as to not overwhelm readers with too many details.
> 
> Bonus: he's a dude OC. As much as I love the female-empowerment Naruto-fanverse is brimming with, I think a boy would have to do... less proving to be a leader. As example, males were always leaders in the Uchiha Clan and in many clans in general (Asura, Hagaromo, Madara, Fugaku, etc.). If this OC were female, logically speaking, this universe may be very biased in choosing her younger brother Itachi as a leader. Cruel. Unfair. But realistic. I hate it. You should too. But it's plausible.
> 
> And, y'know as a bonus, I really want this OC to save our cinnamon roll Itachi (too pure, too sweet for this world) but even I don't know how broken Itachi will be by the end of this.


End file.
